


Chances

by j_gabrielle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, I am late with this, M/M, Reunion, Steter Secret Santa, Suzimi, slight angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ringing of bells signifying the Midnight Mass starting brings the reality that this Christmas will be spent in the humidity and the perpetual sweat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToyBoxOfSuz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyBoxOfSuz/gifts).



> To Suzimi, I apologise so much for the lateness of this. I hope you will like this nonetheless. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

The sweltering night heat of the indoors was tainted by the scent of incense and the local remedies for muscle aches. Outside, the incessant screeching of the crickets rise to an unholy volume. The ancient ceiling fan directly above the bed provides no relief.

  
Peter swallows down the growl lingering in his throat. The ringing of bells signifying the Midnight Mass starting brings the reality that this Christmas will be spent in the humidity and the perpetual sweat.

  
The distant neon lights of the city filter through with the shadow of the tree outside his window. There will be no sleep for him again.

  
His phone rings. Dislodging his limbs from where he has star fished on the bed, he reaches out for it.

  
"Hello?" He speaks as softly as possible. Ah Mah doesn't like it when her sleep is disturbed. "Hello?" Peter tries again over the crackle burst of static.

  
"-ello! Peter?"

  
He frowns. No one here knows him by that name. "Who is this?" He demands, sitting up. Looking around the small room, he picks out the meagre belongings he cannot live without.

  
A soft laughter carries through over the static and slight distortion. "It's me." The two words were said, carrying the weight of unspoken things in each syllable.

  
Peter doesn't immediately answers. Swallowing again, he takes a deep breath. "What do you want?"

  
Silence. Just when he thinks the other party has hung up, he hears, "I miss you. Come back."

  
"It's not that simple." He grips his phone, feeling the plastic creak under his strength.

 

"I miss you too." He offers, words spilling forth unwillingly.

  
Peter listens to the quiet and steady rhythm of breathing coming through the line. Just then, the clock out in the hallway chimes for midnight. "Merry Christmas Stiles." He says.

  
Stiles hums in reply. Peter parts his lips to speak when a knock sounds at his door.

"Wait." Peter whispers, moving his phone to his chest. Sliding out of bed, he approaches the door. Turning the doorknob, he feels his heart jump to his throat at the sight of the figure standing there shrouded in the dim lights of the hall.

  
"Merry Christmas, Wolf." Stiles says, waving his hand not holding up his backpack.

Peter drinks him in, looking down to his phone and looking back up to the young man standing in front of him. Dropping his phone, uncaring if the clattering wakes Ah Mah up. His landlady can throw a fit tomorrow for all he cares because all he wanted was to hold Stiles in his arms. Peter wraps his arms tight, choking down the sob in his chest. Burying his face into the crook of Stiles' neck, Peter inhales his scent heady and consuming.

  
"Hi." Stiles murmurs, lips pressed against the corner of his jaw.

  
"Hi." He replies. Giving himself another moment, he parts, sliding his mouth over Stiles', sighing into the painful familiarity of their kisses. "You shouldn't have come." He says, stealing breath and words between presses of lips.

  
Stiles laughs, little huffs tickling the space between them. "It's Christmas. Let me in."

  
Peter hauls him into the room, bag and body and all.

  
Kicking the door shut behind him, he surrenders himself to the feeling of completeness that washes over him.


End file.
